olivia

“When she turned, she only saw one silhouette against the dark.
Nezha had come alone. Unarmed.
He always looked different in the moonlight. His skin shone paler, his features looked softer, resembling less the harsh visage of his father and more the lovely fragility of his mother. He looked younger. He looked like the boy she'd known at school”
― R.F. Kuang, The Burning God

“You can’t do this for me,” he said. “I won’t let you.”
“It’s not for you. It’s not a favor. It’s the cruelest thing I could do.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Burning God

“He loves her.
Of this he's certain.
He loves her laugh; that sharp, sudden sound; the cynical laugh that always comes too quick, like it's ripped out of her. He loves her quick, confident grin. He loves her resilience, her bravery, even her impulsiveness.
She's everything he's not: unbound, reckless, free. He's never known anyone like her.
She terrifies him, and he loves her so much it hurts.
In all of his worst nightmares, she's dying. She's fading away in his arms, helpless and whimpering, while hot, dark blood spills over his fingers.
This he tells her.
He doesn't tell her that his hand holds the blade.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Burning God

“That's just what translation is, I think. That's all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they're trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.”
― R.F. Kuang, Babel